


Love Thy Enemy

by Liberty_Belle



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Historically Sensitive Material, Multi, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 23:25:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liberty_Belle/pseuds/Liberty_Belle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink Meme de-anon for the prompt “Vichy France.” During WWII, Francis — unwilling to fight against his family but unable to abandon his people — becomes a prisoner in his own home. His two best friends try to keep him company, but it’s not so easy when they’re on the side of his enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Thy Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> Request on the Kink Meme wanted something with Vichy France. I decided to take the side that he stayed with his people (as opposed to escaping to England/joining the resistance), but disagreed with the government and was held prisoner.

Francis sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly with his fingertips and leaning his head back against the top of his armchair, looking blankly out the window.  
  
How had it come to this? He hadn’t wanted to surrender to those bastards, but what could he have done? He simply didn’t have the strength anymore, not after the last war. He’d lost a generation of young men, his land had suffered so much destruction, and his people were simply so weary…  
  
Still, he hadn’t been the one to make the decision and it was more than his pride could handle to sit here on little more than house-arrest with guards at his door all hours of the day, while his people and his colonies were exploited to help his enemy and fight his family. He’d had one letter from Mathieu – just one that the government had allowed him to read, after first opening it and dissecting it for possible codes. He’d sent love from all three of them and asked that Francis take care of himself and not worry. One way or another, it would all end one day.  
  
He held that letter in his hand, rereading it for the millionth time, when there was a knock at the door. Francis ignored it; it would be the job of the guards to open it anyway, making sure it was someone Francis was allowed to see.  
  
The visitor’s footsteps echoed in the entryway, but Francis still did not look up until a soft voice called, “Hey.”   
  
The Frenchman’s eyes snapped up at the sound, and he allowed his gaze to linger on his guest in silent shock as he took him in. He was dressed in uniform, hat in his hands and his stance relaxed, his smile hesitant and just a little sheepish.   
  
Francis shifted his eyed back to the window and kept his face a perfect mask.   
  
“Get out of here, Gilbert,” he demanded coldly, voice devoid of any emotion but stony anger.   
  
Gilbert’s face fell slightly, and his shoulders sagged, as if he’d been expecting this reaction but had hoped against it. “Francis…” he tried, speaking more softly this time, almost pleading. Francis closed his eyes and tightened his hold on the paper in his hand.   
  
“I said get  _out_ !” he said, more fiercely this time. “Why don’t you go bother Roderich or something? I’m sure you’re just delighted to have him in the house  again.”   
  
He almost regretted it the second it passed his lips – almost, because at this point he was too far gone to feel remorse for anything he said. The atmosphere turned instantly colder and Gilbert stiffened.  
  
“That was low,” he murmured, barely masking the pain in his voice. “I came here to try to talk to you, as a  _friend_ . Thought maybe you’d want the company,” he turned sharply. “But fine, forget it.”  
  


His footsteps faded slowly and Francis winced when the door slammed, but he was in pain himself, had a family out there fighting, had enough to worry about without concern for the enemy too.

Two days later, there was another knock at the door. This time, Francis actually looked up, and his eyes widened when Antonio stepped into the room, giving him a tired little smile.   
  
Francis slumped back into his seat but reached out from him nonetheless.  
  
“Antonio…”  
  
Antonio crossed the room quickly, wrapped Francis in his arms, and just held him, squeezing his shoulders and stroking his hair. “Oh  Francis…” he whispered. Francis simply let himself lean against Antonio’s chest, taking comfort from his presence.  
  
“What–” he started, but Antonio cut him off before he could finish the question.  
  
“Gilbert asked me to come.” Francis stiffened, but Antonio pulled back and knelt before him, taking his face in his hands and looking at him intently. “I know you’re hurting, I know. Believe me, I understand. He looked nearly on the verge of tears. “How do you think I felt when those heartless bastards destroyed Guernica, for nothing but a  _fucking experiment_ ?” Antonio leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Francis’s, his voice beginning to waver with emotion. “But there was nothing I could do because their friends had power in Italy too. They knew I would never betray Lovino and they used it against me when I lost it after the bombing.” He paused to take a few deep breaths and pull himself together. Francis kept silent and waited, lifting one hand to cover Antonio’s on his cheek and squeeze it gently.   
  
“But it isn’t Gilbert’s fault, Francis,” he said softly. “It isn’t Ludwig’s either. Don’t you remember when he was a little boy? When he looked at us distrustfully but was really just jealous of Gilbert’s attention? When he was a teenager far too serious for his age but always respectful and proper? He wouldn’t do this by choice.”   
  
Antonio moved his hands from Francis’s cheeks and held his hands tightly. “They’re victims of their governments just like we are. They’re not fighting for  _them_ ; they’re fighting for their  _people_ . Their people who don’t deserve this any more than ours do.” The earnestness in Antonio’s eyes spoke more than the words, and Francis leaned back again with a heavy sigh.   
  
“I still don’t want to see him,” he said after a moment.  
  
Antonio nodded. “That’s fine. I understand. Just don’t let yourself hate your best friend, Francis. Or his little brother. They’re good men. They don’t want this. They’re only doing what they have to.” The pleading expression he fixed him with was so sincere that Francis couldn’t hold on any longer. He closed his eyes and nodded once.   
  
“You’re right,” he agreed at last. “I cannot sit here and pretend there’s nothing wrong; that’s why I don’t want to see him, but I don’t hate him. I never will. Tell him that for me?”  
  
Antonio smiled softly, reaching up to brush a lock of hair back from Francis’s face. “Of course.” He stood, pulling Francis into another embrace and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Take care, Francis. If you ever need me, just call, okay?”  
  
Francis gave him a weak smile and nodded. One more squeeze to his hand and Antonio was gone, and Francis looked to the window once again, turning over Antonio’s words in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> -Spain did not fight in WWII but was Axis-sympathetic under Francisco Franco.  
> -Guernica is a town in Basque country in northern Spain, bombed in 1937 by the Luftwaffe.


End file.
